Reborn
by Hope You Will Always Stay
Summary: America has fallen after World War Three, all the nations combined power was too much and the superpower's reign has come to an end. Or has it? Even with America officially gone and the personification killed by his own brother, is the war done for? When Canada meets a young man who resembles Alfred at the head of a resistance group he begins to think it's not over yet.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and make no money from fanfics!**_

* * *

_Sometimes the only pay off for having any faith,_  
_ Is when it's tested again and again everyday,_  
_ I'm still comparing your past to my future,_  
_ It might be your wound but they're my sutures_

_~Immortals, Fall Out Boy_

* * *

"I should get back the thirteen colonies, after all that's what I lost when America became independent!" England argued

"You had you chance to rule them, _mon ami_, and you failed. I say it is Big Brother France's turn to have a go at it!"

"They were originally mine! I will fight for them!"

Canada sat back in his chair and watched as the other countries divided up his brothers land. England, Japan, France, Germany, Italy, Russia, China, and himself. They were the main components in America's destruction, so they would divvy up the land and simple annex it into their own countries. Simple as that. After all, why leave such bountiful land to go to waste? Sure, the people may resist at first, but soon they'd forget America even existed. Generations would pass and there would be no more Americans, just citizens of the country that got assigned that land. After all, Alfred F. Jones and his country were both dead. Matthew should know, he was the one that had shot his brother in the head. Squishing the small feeling of guilt that welled up in his stomach as he remembered his brother dead body lying in the mud unmoving, Canada too stood up.

"There will not be anymore fighting, we all wanted a common goal. That goal was to destroy America, and we accomplished that. We can evenly distribute the land, but you may not get what you want. Get over it." Canada pursed his lips and glared before sitting down once more

_You didn't want him dead, you just went along with it because you'd be recognized. You killed your only brother, the only person who remembered you existed, just to be seen. You're a selfish, greedy person. _That voice, constantly in the back of his head, sounded far to much like Alfred for Matthew's tastes. Resting his head on the palm of his hand, Matthew closed his eyes. What's done is done, there is no back tracking now. America was dead, no matter how much Canada secretly hated the fact.

His brother was dead.

* * *

"Push! Come on, push!" The nurse was screaming

"Ah!" He could imagine his wife, Julia, in pain as she screamed and cried

A refuge camp was certainly not where Isaac Bennett thought his wife would give birth. The war itself was unexpected, but what surprised him more was that they _lost_. The United States government had all been overthrown and killed by the foreign countries and now the enemy soldiers were looking for any possible resistance to stomp it out. Some thought their land was going to be given to the different countries, and some had hope that America would fight the invading countries off. Isaac himself knew there was no hope with their military practically abolished, it would be up to the people. Then again, what could a bunch of nobodies do against bombs and guns? Still, deep inside, he felt hope. Hope that his country would come out victorious, through he knew that dream was vain.

So he stood outside the medical tent, wringing his hands and praying for the best as his wife cried out inside giving birth to their child. The camp had no technology whatsoever, simply a few medical tools and volunteer doctors. However, the camp was better than risking your life out on the city streets that were crawling with foreign soldiers. Their homes had either been shot up or bombed, but they had all found other refugees like themselves and scrounged together all they had to survive. The tall, brunette man didn't want to raise his son in a world like this. He wanted it to be like when he was a child, free to run around in his back yard and not having to worry about a soldier shooting him down for looking suspicious.

All of a sudden, a loud cry cut through the air. A baby's cry, strong and loud, along with the nurses declaration that the child was a boy. Isaac entered the tent right as the smiling nurse set the baby in his wife's arms. Going over to her side, he looked at the baby who already had tufts of blonde hair on his head and eyes that were wide open. A bright vivid blue that seemed almost unnatural looked up at him with such self awareness, Isaac new immediately that this boy would grow up to be sharp as a tack.

"Is that unusual?" He heard Julia ask, tired but smiling, "His eyes?"

"No." The nurse shook her head, "Most baby's eyes are blue when they're born."

"They're so bright though." Isaac muttered, knowing neither woman could hear him

"So, what's his name?" The nurse smiled widely at the couple

Looking at his wife, Isaac waited for her to speak, "Alexander George Bennett."

"Julia." Isaac looked at his wife warningly, "Would that be a good idea."

The woman pursed her lips, "Well I don't see why not! With our country in such bad times, I'd like to remember some of the good men who were our founding fathers. Who knows, maybe with a little faith and patriotism, we can kick those ass holes back to their own countries and show them not to mess with the United States!"

Shaking his head with a weak smile, Isaac gave his consent to the name. With a mother like that, the man couldn't imagine how his son was going to turn out. Probably the leader of some rebel group or something. Chuckling lightly as he took his son into his arms, he shook his head. What a ridiculous idea.

* * *

_**A/N: So, another story. Yes, I am partially insane. Also, can anyone guess why I names Alfred's reincarnation Alexander George? if you guess I'll give you free internet cookies! Here's a hint; one has something to do with American history and the other has something to do with it, but that's not the reason I chose it.**_

_**Hope you guys enjoy! **_

_**Also, for those wondering why I usually write about America (I got a few PM's) I'm planning to write about other characters soon. I just like America the best (Though Spain is a close second) XD**_


	2. Let the War Begin

_**Chapter One: Let the War Begin**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and make no money from fanfics!**_

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_They say we are what we are,_  
_ But we don't have to be,_  
_ I'm bad behavior but I do it in the best way,_  
_ I'll be the watcher of the eternal flame,_  
_ I'll be the guard dog of all your fever dreams_

_~Immortals, Fall Out Boy_

* * *

The meeting was being held in New York, which was now considered a part of England legally. The land of the former United States had been divided up, but the people were stubborn. It had been nearly twenty years but still the parents who had children told them stories of how it used to be, and then those children had grown to be just as rebellious as their parents. This were tearing at the seams as the soldiers who patrolled the streets were being shot and killed on a daily basis. Canada had suggested to all the nations that they just take away the firearms from the former Americans, but when he tried that with his district of land he realized that was a big mistake.

Once the announcement has been made, police stations had been opened for people to turn in their guns. Canada had figured once it was announced, people would come in droves to turn in their firearms. Only a few people turned one or two guns in. So he sent out officials, and that had simply turned into a bloodbath. Fights broke out between the officials and the rebels, it was like the ex-Americans were fighting a war that hadn't even started. The countries had no control over their people, if they could even be counted as that. They all still though of themselves as Americans, and though the countries had gone so far as to banning the United States flag those people still had the nerve to fly it in their yard. When they were arrested and asked why they simply said they were American, not part of whatever country had taken over their land. The countries themselves couldn't even feel these people as part of their population.

It was absolute chaos.

So that's what this meeting was about. Everything would be fixed soon, Canada though as he turned into the large building. Looking around for the attendant, as he had no clue what floor the meeting was to be held on, he stood patiently waiting. He knew he was a bit early, it wasn't their fault so there was no reason to be mad.

"Ah, sorry sir!" A familiar voice spoke loudly, "I didn't know anyone would be here this soon! I was just on the phone with my mom and had to hang up, oh, sorry! You don't care about that! Anyways, I'm guessing you're here for the UN meeting? May I see your ID?"

Canada turned, holding his breath and nearly scared, only to see a tall, blonde man with blue eyes and tan skin. This twenty year old citizen of New York, England was the carbon copy of Alfred F. Jones.

"W-what's your name?" Canada tried to keep hos voice from shaking as he was faced with his deceased brothers doppelgänger

"Alexander George Bennett, sir!" That smile again, wide and toothy

"Right." Canada nodded, accepting this all to be a coincidence

_He has Nantucket, though! No human has hair that looks exactly like his! _That voice hissed in the back of his mind_. __You killed him, and now he's back to haunt you. Rightfully so, too._

"Sorry, sir, but I really need your ID." The young man seemed to be getting impatient, obviously wanting to call his mom back to tell he about the weird Canadian who interrupted their chat.

"Fine." Canada pulled his ID out of his pocket, proud that his hand didn't shake as he flashed it at the man.

"Good. Floor three, sir." The boy spoke and handed him a name tag that had Matthew Williams neatly printed on it.

Canada swore that, as he turned away, that smile became sinister.

* * *

"They're starting to come in." Alexander muttered into his ear piece as he went behind the desk

"Be careful, Alex!" A woman's voice hissed back, "If they get you we're dead!"

"I know, I know! Calm down, Char!" He chuckled quietly, "There's no one else more qualified for this than me. You know that."

She sighed on the other end of the call, "I know but your mom and dad are worried sick. I just hope once a few of their high up officials go missing, those ass holes know we mean business! They can't just treat us like we have no rights, like we're not even human-!"

"I know." Alex insisted, pulling out a stack of nametags from under the desk, "That's why we're doing this after all. That's why _the whole damn country _is doing this."

"Someone got beat to death by police officers in the Russian states a few days ago for being suspected of treason. Let's not mention that treason was having an American flag in there house when there was no damn proof, and that anyone who tried to help him were shot and killed. Eleven people died in total. In the Canadian states they tried to take guns away when over half of their population made a living on hunting! In the Japanese states-!"

"Charlotte. I get the same info you do. In fact, I get more as I'm a rank above you. I know all of this." Alex calmly spoke as he opened up the sharpie and began writing the names on tags from the list of officials

"Yeah, yeah." Charlotte sighed, "Just giving you a pep talk. Don't want you wimping out or anything."

"Like hell I'd wimp out of something this important. We're about to give them hell and, possibly, start a war." A smirk tilted his lips up and almost looked unnatural on his face.

"We can always count on you, Alex. Good luck." With that, the call ended

Sighing deeply as the next official came in, a mister Ivan Braginski who was tall and glared at him deeply as Alex handed him the name tag, the rebel leaned his head against his hand. This was the Revolutionary War all over again except know they weren't just up against one empire, they were up against eight. They were Americans, though, and they sure as hell wouldn't go down without a fight.

* * *

_**A/N: Okay! So, what is Alex/Alfred going to do to give the countries (who he thinks are just high ranked officials) hell? Also, how will the 'Rebels' win this war? Do they have a secret weapon?**_

**_Also, mega internet cookies to the anonymous reviewer 'America' who gave me info I did not know! I originally chose Alexander because it tied in with a great Greek conqueror Alexander the Great. Also, Alexander Hamilton who was a founding father of the United States._**

_**George, obviously, come from George Washington who was the first president of the United States and a founding father.**_

_**Hope you guys enjoy! **_


	3. America Has Changed

_**Chapter Two: America Has Changed**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and make no money from fanfics!**_

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_Some legends are told_  
_ Some turn to dust or to gold_  
_ But you will remember me_  
_ Remember me for centuries_  
_ And just one mistake_  
_ Is all it will take_  
_ We'll go down in history_  
_ Remember me for centuries_

_~Centuries, Fall Out Boy_

* * *

Alex knew they had started their meeting when, fifteen minutes after he had handed out the last nametag, he had seen the doors to the meeting room shut from the security room. Smirking, he turned to the computer and began typing. Everything nowadays was centered around technology, even the security locks in doors. In case of an emergency, say a gunman snuck in and wanted to shoot everyone in the meeting, the doors were made of metal and would automatically lock if someone pulled the alarm. Then they wouldn't open for anything unless you had the key card. Luck being on their side, you could also trigger this emergency lock via the computer in the security room on the second floor. The same security room Alex had access to.

He looked outside in the hallway to see a young man and woman, both his age in their early twenties, walking towards the room. Smirking he made the 'hurry-the-hell-up' motion with his hand and caused the people to pick up pace. Alex knew this man well, after all they had grown up together. Their parents had known each other for a long time and the two had practically been raised at each others houses. When one set of parents couldn't watch the kids or had a business trip, the other set of parents did. Naturally, the two had become the best of friends and when Alex had joined the rebellion, Chase had been right behind him. As for the woman, well, Veronica had been in the resistance groups for as long as he had. She was a real good shot, though never trust her with throwing grenades. That would backfire, literally. She'd once accidentally thrown one into a crowd of trainees but, luckily, they were used to her bad throws and fled in time.

Chase was very tall, lean, and dark haired. He was the lightest on his feet out of all three of them, he could run faster than a wild cat. He had green eyes, and had acquired quite the tan from all those days out in the practice fields training the newbies with Alex. Veronica was blonde haired, brown eyed, and quite short. Though she could be considered a bit plumper than others, she was still very strong and she could sprint as well as Alex himself.

"Okay, all you have to do is watch that security monitor and when you see me go in, wait a few second before you hit the enter button. I've already put in the code needed, you can't possibly screw this up. Vera is gonna go in with me. Got it?" Alex asked

"Yeah, I just still can't believe you swung this job..." Chase sat down in the spinning chair

"All I had to do was ask Mrs. Fowler, she was appointed governor of New York by whoever the hell does that. Luckily those idiots were smart enough not to ship one of their guys from over sea, I think they knew there'd of been a damn riot if they'd done that." Alfred snickered

"Mrs. Fowler? She knows you, though, and she knows how high up you are in the rebel group!" His friend looked at him in disbelief

"The real term is militia, and everyone against our current government would be called rebels, but yeah I get what you mean." Alex nodded as Veronica handed him a gun out of her bag

"She must really hate those damn foreigners!" Chase shook his head in disbelief

"Everyone in the country hates them." Veronica laughed, "So Margaret will be out back when we bring them out?"

"Yeah, Char's back at base like you told her." The dark haired man snickered and looked at Alex, "She's still pissed you wouldn't let her come!"

"She broke her ankle." Alex snorted, "She couldn't come."

"Doesn't mean she isn't mad, but she understands." Chase laughed once more before accepting the gun from Veronica

"Okay, enough talking." The blonde man sighed, "Once you lock those doors, sprint up to the third floor with the key card. Bring your gun. Okay, let's roll."

Chase nodded and watched as his friends left the room, praying to god those idiots in that meeting had followed the general rule and hadn't brought weapons. Even though Alfred and Veronica were some of the best shooters in their regional militia, if they were against eight armed people one of them might get hurt.

* * *

Matthew sighed as he heard Russia report what had happen in his region of the former country. Eleven people had been killed by the police for treason, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. They were starting to suspect rebel groups had begun to form, but right as Matthew was about to proof his government had found of them, the heavy metal doors of the meeting room opened. Canada could see Arthur freeze at seeing Alfred's doppelgänger, the Englishman had been a mess when he'd run into the room claiming America had come back from the dead. Feliciano and Francis had had similar reactions and now, as he saw the blonde man standing in the doorway with a deadly gleam in his eyes, he thought that was a plausible option. Everyone seemed to tense except Russia, thinking Alfred was here to demand they relinquish control of his country and to tell them to go burn in hell. However, this look alike and the woman with him just smiled politely.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, sirs, but there's been an emergency." The man's blonde eyebrows scrunched together, seemingly concerned

Of course, it was impossible for someone to come back from the dead. Alfred was most certainly dead, Matthew had shot the bullet in his head himself. This is just a kid who looks like Alfred that happens to work in this building. They seem to think there's a danger, so he and his partner came to check on the members of the UN meeting._ You wish it was him though_, the voice hissed, _you wish your baby brother was back. You wish you hadn't killed him. Deep down, all of you do, really._

"What would that emergency be?" Germany narrowed his eyes in concern, staring at the two supposedly concerned employees

"There's someone in the building who may cause issues, so we came to advise you to watch-"

The blonde man was cut off by the metal doors practically slamming together. Narrowing his eyes, Canada really wished the UN meetings allowed them to bring weapons. The girl beside him touched her ear, like she was trying to hear over the pissed off nations, and quickly gave an annoyed look to her partner. The girl pulled her hand away and nodded, looking stoic as she stared at the nations. All traces of polite and kind smiles had disappeared from both of their faces. Matthew tensed as both of them slipped their hands in the pocket of their jackets, and pulled out sleek metal objects. Guns.

"What are you doing, aru!" China stood up, angry look on his face

"Listen." The girl's voice was cold as ice, "We don't give a damn about your well being, okay? We _will _shoot you if you don't cooperate."

"Who do you work for?" England spoken up, calm as could be, "Is it Mexico? She has always-!"

Alfred look a like, Matthew thought he said his name was Alexander, rolled his eyes and shot the wall beside England, "You're standing in the country that sent us."

"What?" China pointed his finger at England, "You sent people with guns into the meeting?"

Russia glared, gripping his pipe tightly, and Arthur panicked, "What? No!"

"Idiots!" The blonde snapped, sneer on his face, "We're talking about the United States of America."

The temperature of the room seemed to drop fifty degrees. Canada felt cold all over, numb almost, as he realized what was happening. They were revolting, the people of the United States were fighting back. England stared at Alexander wide eyes, this was literally the American Revolution all over. The rest of the countries, however, just felt like slamming their heads into the table. They _knew _trying to take over the United States would end badly.

"I don't think you want to do this, da?" Russia's smile was at full force as he gripped his pipe tightly, "It might not end well for your health."

While the girl seemed slightly freaked out, the boy just snorted, "You're cute if you think you scare me."

He moved his gun slightly and, before anyone could react, he had pulled the trigger. Blood exploded from the hand that Russia was holding the pipe with, but that didn't stop Ivan. No, he had been through much worse, but he took too much time trying to toy around with his prey. While he had been laughing and trying to scare them, Alexander had taken off at a sprint towards Russia. The nations expected him to get his ass handed to him, but the blonde man simply raised his gun over Russia's head and brought the metal object down hard. The nations stared, wide eyed, as Russia seemed to get a bit fuzzy. Ivan snarled and grabbed Alexander's arm tightly, jerking on it harshly, but the American simply reared his other fist back and punched Ivan in the face as hard as he could. The Russian was out like a light as Alexander seemed to drill his face into the ground.

"You okay, Alex?" Veronica smirked

"Yeah." The blonde man shook his head dismissively, "Asswipe might've broke my arm, but I heal fast. No biggie."

As the nations looked at the dent in the ground Alexander had made with his fist and Ivan's face, one thing was for sure. This guy definitely had Alfred's strength.

* * *

_**A/N: So they're kidnapping the unknown nations, huh? Don't worry, Russia will get his revenge! He underestimated Alex/Alfred because Ivan thought he was simply a human and not America's reincarnation. Also, Alex/Alfred still has his strength, and it's so much fun to write about. No, before you ask, this story will not be about America kicking everyone's butts, thus making him a Mary sue. Like I said, Russia gets revenge and America will get pretty injured later on in the story. Keep in mind the countries were unarmed and the two rebels had guns + Alfred/Alex's strength.**_

_**We'll get more POV's in the countries next chapter!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: How do you think the people at their 'base camp' treat Alfred/Alex? How will the nations be treated? How does Alex find out he's actually America? **_

**_Thanks to everyone who reviewed! And Alerted! And Favorited! And did all three ;)_**


	4. Your Worst Nightmare

_**Chapter Three: Your Worst Nightmare**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and make no money from fanfics!**_

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_This is a black, black ski mask song_  
_ So put all of your anger on_  
_ In the truly gruesome do we trust_  
_ I will always land on you like a sucker punch_

_Singing I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare_  
_ I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare_

_~Novocaine, Fall Out Boy_

* * *

There were two of the soldiers in the front and back as the nations were marched through what looked like a war camp. A cluster of houses built in the woods, the countries couldn't imagine how their armies had missed all this. As they passed the other soldiers some sneered, some spit at them, but every single one looked at them in disdain. There hundreds, it seemed like the whole state of new York was in the camp. The Alfred look alike walked in front of the two guards in the front, and when the people saw them, he was nodded at. Some who seemed to know him more personally smiled at the young man. Finally, they came to the biggest house of them all, guarded by one man who stood with a rifle.

"Alex." The man nodded at him stiffly in respect, turning and taking the keys off his belt to unlock the door

One of the guards in the back snapped as the nations didn't follow Alex and the front guards inside, "Move it, you damn foreigners!"

The nations were herded past a locked up room and down the stairs into what seemed to be the basement. Being the first one to go down, Alex flipped on the lights and ordered the guards to cuff the prisoners and put them on the ground. The nations were basically thrown to the hard, concrete floor as the guards looked down at them in disgust. Whispers and hisses of dictators, freedom, and murderers were shared amongst the gathered Americans until Alex spoke up.

"Listen!" Alfred barked sharply, and the men turned to listen, "I want extra security on this room _and _room 1A. No one is allowed down here except the people on the list I gave you before I left."

"What about room 1A?" A female guard spoke up, raising an eyebrow

"Same clearance, just more guards." Alex pursed his lips, "Now you're dismissed. Chase, Vera, and I can take care of this."

Nods were giving and the four armed rebels left. Veronica cracked her neck, sighing and looking extremely bored as she kept one hand on her hip where her gun was. Chase had and easy smile playing on his lips, those disgust filled his eyes as he looked at their prisoners on the floor. Though, all the nations could agree, Alex's facial expression was the worst because he had none. His face was stoic and his eyes didn't give them even a hint to what he was thinking.

"What is this?" England snapped, "The army?"

"We have guns. You don't. So shut the hell up." Veronica snapped, going from seemingly bored to annoyed within seconds

"Vera." Alex spoke quietly, "Go speak with Char."

"Wha-!" The woman looked up, anger and shock playing on her features, "You can't-!"

"I _can_. Go talk with Charlotte." Alex pursed his lips, "You need to cool down some and I'm sure she's lonely in the infirmary."

Veronica pursed her lips furiously before turning and walking up to the main level, presumably to talk to this Charlotte woman. England huffed, glaring at the two remaining men. The nations had been shoved into a van, and by the time Russia had woken up they'd been taken to a camp where they were looked down on in disgust, and now they were being kept in a cold, dank cellar in whoever's house this was. England, personally, wanted to go back and kick his past self's ass for having a hand in killing Alfred because this was just too much bloody karma for him.

"You don't think you deserve this treatment." Chase spoke up and all eyes turned to him, "You don't think you deserve this, yet the people under you are out killing the parents of small children who now have no one in their lives. Don't say it's not true, cause that's what happened to Veronica's mom and dad. She used to be in the Russian states, but fled here after her parents were killed. There all orphans are thrown into children's homes where they're beat and sometimes raped when they get older. You can't blame her for coming to the English states, the death rate is the second lowest here. First is in the Canadian states, but their too far away. You know, my own father was murdered right here in New York though. Spoke out against an unjust law and was shot full of lead."

Alex put his hand on his fellow soldiers shoulder with sad eyes while she young man looked down.

"You'll be treated fine." Alex spoke in a cold tone as he glared at the nations on the ground, "Blankets will be brought and you'll get three hot meals a day. It's more than what some get in your hell hole prisons, so be grateful. We'll even let you keep the light on."

China glared, "You think just kidnapping us will stop anything, aru? Our governments will come and get us-!"

"It's funny you think this is the only event happening right now. The whole of America is in action at the moment, overthrowing your governments and armies and freeing the wrongly accused."

"The governors won't allow it." England sniffed, "They probably long ago sniffed this out and are just waiting for the chance to stomp it out-!"

"Mrs. Fowler? The English governor?" Alex's smile was dangerous, "She gave me this job so I could get into the UN meeting. She knows _exactly _who I am too. Same with the other governors. The whole _country _hates your people and what they're doing! It's not right and the people aren't being treated like humans. We want freedom and we'll get it, or we'll go down fighting. Simple as that. Come on, Chase. I gotta go visit mom and dad before they flip their shit."

As the two rebels walked out of the basement, the nations heard the heavy shut of the metal door closing. Then, a quieter click of it being locked.

* * *

_**A/N: Okay then! Had a bit of Writer's block for this, but hope it turned out okay regardless!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: How will the nations get out of this predicament"**_

**_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited! It means the world :)_**


	5. The Kid's Aren't Alright

_**Chapter Four: The Kid's Aren't Alright**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and make no money from fanfics!**_

* * *

_And with the black banners raised as the crooked smiles fade_  
_ Former heroes who quit too late_  
_ Just wanna fill up the trophy case again_

_And in the end_  
_ I'd do it all again_  
_ I think you're my best friend_  
_ Don't you know that the kids aren't all, kids aren't alright_

_~The Kid's Aren't Alright, Fall Out Boy_

* * *

Whenever he dreamed, it was usually of war and always in first person as though he were looking through someone else's eyes. The sounds of war were more common to him, the violent, cracking noise of musket fire or the more modern shots of machine guns. The other rare occasions when he wasn't on a blood stained battle field, people were in the dreams speaking to him. Calling him by a different name, Alfred or America, and usually ridiculing or shaming him for something that had happened. The scariest thing of all was that each and every person looked exactly like those he had capture just a few hours ago.

When he was younger he had woken in the middle of the night, crying and sobbing as he remembered the gore of the battle he had seen in his sleep. His mother would always rush in, holding him in her arms while his father stood in the doorway with a worried look. His mom would tell his dad to go back to bed and the she'd hold him, telling him stories of the past. Of America's past. The things she had learned as a little girl, about the Revolution and the World Wars. The War of 1812 and the Cold War. She was a well of knowledge and, while his father disapproved of it in fear they would be branded traitors to England and shot by firing squad for treason, she always whispered the tales as he fell back to sleep in her arms.

As he got older, he began noticing similarities in her stories and his dreams. He had watched as a building, he remembered his mother describing it and calling it the White House, being burned to the ground. That had been during the War of 1812, he recalled after waking from his restless sleep, when Canada retaliated to the Burning of York by torching the White House. Of course, nowadays the building wasn't there either. The first thing the invading countries had done, his mother told him, was tear Washington D.C. to rubble and then build on top of it.

Another time he had been standing in front of a crowd of men, dressed in American Revolution uniforms, and looking down at a lone red coat. The man was a wreck and, for some reason, crying out about how some guy named Alfred was leaving. Alfred realized now, sitting up in his bed in a cold sweat with Charlotte's arms around him, that the red coat from his childhood dreams looked exactly like England's UN representative. And the French guy, he had been there and had clapped Alfred on back as they left the man in the rain, the Frenchman speaking of a great victory against a major empire.

He didn't understand it at all, all of the dreams. For awhile he thought it was either his imagination or he was going insane. The tall Russian man for the UN meeting had made an appearance in a dream that still sent shivers down his spine. At the young age of nine he had dreamed of an office setting, the violet eyed man sitting across the table from him. The conversation had quickly gotten of track and a very heated argument broke out. Vividly, Alex could easily recall the memory of being tossed into a wall by the Russian and beaten with a pipe before he had gotten the advantage and began to punch the other man.

Still, despite having seeing every other member from the UN meeting in his dreams at one pint in his life, there was only one he didn't see. The Canadian representative who looked spookily like himself had never made an appearance in his nighttime horrors. Well, had never made an appearance until tonight. After slipping off into the clutches of sleep that night, he had found himself in a war torn field. Bodies had laid around him, shot full of bullets, and Alex wasn't sure who's side they were on. Weather enemy or foe, the stench made him want to gag. That was one thing he had never gotten over, even to this day. The dreams were always so realistic, he felt pain and smelt the smells and everything was so real it made him want to run and hide.

All of a sudden a man with blonde hair, a face shockingly like his own, and piercing violet eyes approached him with a hand gun in hand. It was the weird Canadian guy from the meeting, the one who had gawked at him like a gaping fish before flashing his badge to get his nametag. However, this was a different time and setting. The man's features were hard and cruel, eyes so cold they could have frozen the sun.

"No, Mattie, please!" He had remembered crying out, trying in vain to stand despite having something wrong with his leg

The man sneered and gave him a sharp kick, knocking him down again, "No, Alfred. I'm done with you."

As he felt the cold metal of the gun pressed to his temple, one word unwillingly fell from his lips, "Why?"

"Because, Al." For a fleeting moment the eyes softened and the man looked sad before the cruel sneer returned, "I'm done being forgotten. I'm done with your annoying antics and always dragging me into some stupid shit! Goodbye."

The trigger was pulled and Alex felt a shocking pain rush through his body before he bolted up in bed, screaming and crying. Charlotte, who's room was right next to his, had rushed in to see what was the matter. Seeing Alex in that state, she had climbed into the bed and just held him like his mother used to, whispering words of comfort to calm the sobs that ripped from his throat. That was how he had gotten into his current position, being cradled by Charlotte who just smoothed his hair and whispered about how the fear would be gone soon. He was trembling and so was she, and when he felt wetness on his shoulder from where she had laid her head to whisper to him, he knew this hurt her too.

"What happened, Alex?" She whispered, her voice small, "I've never seen you like this. Did...did something happen before Chase and Veronica got there?"

"No." He tried in vain to stop shaking like a leaf in a strong gale but he _couldn't _because god his heart physically ached, "It was just a nightmare."

"You can talk to me." She pulled away from him, keeping her hands of his shoulders but looking into his eyes

He knew he could talk to her. If he could speak to anyone about anything it was his mother and Charlotte. Looking at her, he saw how red her grey eyes were from her own crying, and looked at the way her brown curls stuck up in a messy way showing she had literally rolled out of bed and dashed into his room. She had nightmares too, except she actually had a reason for them and didn't just fabricate stories in her mind like Alex did. She had lived in the German states before fleeing to the English states to avoid being captured. Her mother and father had been convicted of treason when she was sixteen, and with her being old enough to have also been in on it, the Germans automatically assumed she had committed some treasonous act and threw her into jail. She never spoke of it, but her knew terrible things had happened because she refused to take bathes her whole first year after arriving to their camp and it was far too often that she woke up screaming.

Alex would have guessed they used Water Boarding, trying to torture information she didn't have out of her. She had been in that hell hole for at least four years from what he could piece together, and he knew it had left a lasting imprint on her mental health. So, as the shaking died down and the pain in his chest ebbed away, he reached forward and grabbed her into a hug. Hiding in the crease of her neck, they just stayed like that for what seemed like forever. Both reliving memories, hers real and his fabricated. It didn't matter, though, because real memories or not the pain was there and they helped each other trough it.

"Sure you don't want me to get your mom?" Charlotte spoke up, still clutching Alex tightly

"Yeah." He sighed, "She'd probably interrogate me about it and then, if she thought the prisoners had anything to do with it she'd go down there and beat them to death."

Laughing, Char relaxed some and released Alex from her tight grip. After assuring her that her was okay, and then repeating that same process ten times, the brunette woman went back to her bunk and left Alex alone in the dark of his room. As he laid their, he knew something was wrong with him. Not just mentally, but there'd always been something off about him overall. He was too strong, too fast, he healed to quickly. People sometime jokingly asked his mother what she ate when she was pregnant with Alex, but she always laughed and said Alex had inherited it from his father. That wasn't true, both he and his parents knew, but what other option was there to say. Deep down, Alex knew something was wrong with him and the only thing he truly feared was that when he finally figured it out, it would break his mothers heart.

* * *

_**A/N: Writers block is crap :( Anyways, here's a bit more insight on Alex and even a bit on Charlotte!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: What is Alex's relationship like with his parents and Charlotte? Also, what exactly do you think happened to Charlotte in jail? Also, what happened to Canada to make him snap and start a war/kill his own brother?**_

**_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited! It means the world :)_**


	6. Change the World

_**Chapter Six: Change the World**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and make no money from fanfics!**_

* * *

_Everybody wants to change the world_  
_ But no one, no one_  
_ Wants to die_

_Wanna try, wanna try, wanna try_  
_ Wanna try, wanna try, now, I'll be your detonator_

_Make no apology_  
_It's death or victory_  
_On my authority_  
_ Crash and burn, young and loaded_

_Drop like a bullet shell_  
_Just like a sleeper cell_  
_I'd rather go to hell_  
_ Than be in a purgatory_

_Cut my hair, gag and bore me_  
_ Pull this pin, let this world explode_

_~Na Na Na, My Chemical Romance_

* * *

Alex woke up to shouts and cries outside. Immediately jumping out of bed, Alex quickly pulled on a coat and jerked on his shoes before racing outside. When he stepped foot outside, what he saw made him smile like a loon. People came from outside their various houses and tents, celebrating in the middle of their little camp as the soldiers walked down to the main base, which was where high ranking rebels like Alex and Charlotte slept, with grave faces. However, you could see the pride at what they'd accomplished shining in their eyes.

Quickly covering his happiness that the group was okay with a serious façade, Alex tried to appear as official as he could in his pajamas. An older officer, probably four or five years Alex's senior, stepped up and nodded stiffly in respect to the blonde man before being questioned. His two remaining soldiers stood behind him, completely ignoring the partying behind them until they were dismissed. The older man, who Alex knew to be Daniel Harling, looked Alex in the eye as the blonde began to debrief the group.

"How many casualties?" Alex asked this question right off the bat, praying to god there were none

However, he knew he was foolish to hope the two missing men had simply been injured and were receiving treatment, "Two. Polter and McCormick."

Pursing his lips, Alex nodded and took in the information before speaking again, "Any injured?"

"Major injuries? No, sir. There will be scrapes and bruises, but we can handle that." Daniel gave a wry smile

"Of course." Alex sighed, "How smooth was the infiltration?"

The group had been sent to take over the government building of the States of England, hoping to take back the control of the country by kicking the foreign governments out. England and Canada would be the easiest to boot out, as they had the weakest defense, but with countries like Germany and Russia it would be a lot harder. Then there was always the matter of _keeping _the territory they gained, but as soon as the resistance had control of more weapons, things would be a lot easier.

"The guards, of course, were our men so they let us right in. However, when we reached the main government offices things got bumpy. They use their guys to guard those doors, cause they aren't stupid enough to trust any American who'd gladly stab them in the back with that, and that's where McCormick died. He took a bullet in the chest getting the gun out of one of the guys hands. They had six guards on that door, and Polter took two out before being shot in the head. When we got into the office the head governor was there."

"I take it he wasn't like Mrs. Fowler?" Alex raised an eyebrow

That's how the United States had been split up, after all. Each state had one governor, usually an American, but each set of states had one head governor that was from the country that had taken over those states. The capitol of the English states was Delaware and, while there were still a lot of rebels in that state, there were a lot more Brits there than any other place in the English states. That was normal for the capitols of countries states though; there would be more Russians in North Dakota and more Germans in Ohio.

Daniel let out a harsh laugh, "Hardly. He screamed and more guards came in but we shot 'em before they could take out anymore of us. We cuffed the governor and gave him to the local rebels. All the loyalists are being watched carefully, but are unharmed just like our orders said."

"Good." Alex nodded sharply, "You're all dismissed. Go visit your families. Especially you, Jacob. You're mom is worried sick."

The rebel, Jacob Daniels, looked up with wide eyes. Only two years older than Alex, he looked a lot younger than he actually was. Nodding, he quickly rushed to where his mother stayed as the other men went off to celebrate the capturing of the English states. Feeling a warm hand touch his shoulder, Alex turned to see his mother watching with a sad smile.

"How many?" Her eyes, a rich brown color, were weary and exhausted

"Two." Alex sighed, running his hand over his face, "I should have gone with them. maybe then-"

His mother took his face in her hands, "Maybe nothing, Alexander. It was decided by a vote that the minimum age was twenty one, you're only twenty. Besides, you captured the people from the UN, right? We have leverage on them now, high ranking officials. Just because you're looked to as the leader of this group doesn't mean you have to carry the weight of it all by yourself, sweetie."

He looked down as she released his face, "How did I even get to be at the head of all this?"

"Your father and I make great babies." The blonde woman smiled, "You have your faults, but you're an exceptional young man. Even if you weren't, you're still my son and I'll love you no matter what."

Alex sighed as she walked away, off to tell his father the good news. He honestly didn't know why he was one of the leaders of the resistance group. Of all the rebels, some war veterans for gods sake, the people had chosen him. He didn't understand it, but in the state of New York, he had been chosen as a rebel leader. He was worried that, one day, he'd wake up to find he'd blown it. That it was his fault everything came crashing down. Because, while the other English States had rebel groups too, New York's was by far the largest. Second to only California or Texas' resistance groups, New York was one of the main powers in this fight. As the leader of one of the largest groups, he was often looked to by the whole country. Him, Jean, who was the leader of the group in Texas, and Kyle, who was the leader of the group in California. Everyone looked at them and if they messed up, everyone would go down with them.

As he looked at the people celebrating, he felt joy rising in his chest. Despite his somber mood, their happiness was rubbing off on him. Alex could feel it thrumming in his veins, and though he didn't know exactly what _it _was, it felt like a hundred hearts beating. No, a million hearts, all thrumming underneath his skin. It gave him strength, the will to push on. A wide, flashing smile sprouted on his lips as that elated feeling just got bigger as he went inside to get Charlotte.

* * *

He found Charlotte standing outside her bedroom door, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It appeared as though she had hastily pulled of her pajamas off and had donned her usual outfit. Dark jeans and a form fitting black tank top with a slim, camo jacket over top everything. Her hair was still messy, like she hadn't bothered to brush it, and she was fighting back yawns as she looked around the deserted hallway. She favored her right leg as she stood, her left ankle obviously still sore from when she broke it in training. She smiled when she saw Alex's face, a curious look in her gaze as if asking why he was so happy. Taking long strides, he quickly reached her and explained the situation. Charlotte smiled sadly, mourning for the two lost men but happy they had won the fight. They hadn't died without a cause, she said, and her words worked to ease some of Alex's hurting over it.

"Do you think the other states succeeded?" She spoke as they walked towards the stairs that led to the basement

Alex didn't even pause, "Yes."

"Why?" Her eyes flashed to his, "You seem so sure. Of course I want them to win but...you know how bad the Russian states are..."

Her voice chocked slightly and Alex wrapped an arm around her as they continued to walk, "I just know. I can't explain it but...I just have a feeling."

The rounded the corner and reached the stairs. The two guards snapped to attention at the sound of footsteps, but lowered their guns when they saw who it was.

"Go out and celebrate." Alex nodded to the door, "We'll go down and guard them."

"Sir?" One of them spoke up, looking confused

"We captured the capitols and there are a lotta parties going on right now. Thought you might wanna join." Alex laughed

"Of course!" The female guard nodded sharply, "Would you like weaponry to guard them with?"

"Well, I mean we have Char's glare which is pretty deadly, but we might need more than that."

Despite Charlotte's scowl, the soldiers handed their guns over and jogged outside to join the festivities. Charlotte cocked her gun and sighed, walking downstairs. Alex followed her closely into the brightly lit basement, ready to face their prisoners.

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry the update took so long!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: How will the nations react to the news their capitols have been overthrown? Or do they already know because some of their people were killed? When does Alex discover he's actually the United States?**_

**_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited! It means the world :)_**


	7. Escape the Past

_**Chapter Six: Escape the Past**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and make no money from fanfics!**_

* * *

_In the dark there's a light that's calling everyone out_  
_ If you could see beyond the walls that you have built_  
_ I know it's hard to escape the past and start it again_  
_ Those memories of all the future hearts you killed_

_I don't wanna be the one that's left behind_  
_ Don't blame me, don't hate me_  
_ I don't wanna be the one that's left behind_

_I won't fade away_  
_ Be forgotten or just cast away_  
_ This life is mine to live_  
_ I won't fade away_  
_ I am lost inside this endless haze of life_  
_ But this life is mine to live_

_~Old Scars/Future Hearts, All Time Low_

* * *

When Alex and Charlotte walked in, all the prisoners did was glare. The first thing the two American rebels noticed was the blood, the way the captives were all bleeding in some way. Be it a blood stain on their clothes, a slash on their arm, or cut on their forehead. Charlotte gasped a little, obviously not expecting that, and turned to Alex with questioning eyes.

Alex cleared his throat, "Um...did the guards come and do this? We gave them direct orders not to-"

"We got into a little...tussle..." The blonde one that looked scarily like Alex spoke up quietly

"How?" Charlotte demanded, "You're chained up, you have no access to you hands-!"

"Our feet." A man with an Italian accent and a glare spoke up

Charlotte gave him a glare then turned to her partner, "Alex, those'll probably get affected, you know. We have to take them to the infirmary."

"I guess you're right." The rebel sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair, "Okay! On your feet, get up!"

"Are you letting us go, vee~?" The other Italian man spoke up, tear streaks still prominent on his face

Char felt her heart tug for the man, he looked younger than Alex did with those wide eyes, but pursed her lips and looked him in the eyes, "No. We're taking you all to the infirmary to patched up."

Alex pulled out his phone and sent a text to the infirmary's head nurse, "Okay. Carla's been notified, she should be ready for them when we get there."

Charlotte stopped them with a wave of her hand, "I want to know your names or have something to call you. I despise pointing, it's rude, and you're all still human so I'd rather treat you like human."

The Italian man who'd been crying spoke up, "I-I'm Feliciano, vee~!"

Charlotte nodded and turned to the next man in line, the tall German one, "Ludwig."

They went down the line, Char and Alex memorizing names and faces before they set out for the infirmary. The prisoners were led up the stairs, Charlotte in the front, Alex in the back. Both had their guns out, even though the prisoners were still handcuffed, just in case. They were halfway there when Alex felt a pressure in his head. It swelled, and swelled and all of a sudden he wasn't in the same room anymore. He was watching many different scenes in his head, going back and forth from one or the other. Loyalists and soldiers shooting rebels and the rebels fight back. Blood, a lot of blood, and the fight for control in the cities.

"-lex! Alex, come on sweetie!" He heard a voice, distant and blurry

He opened his eyes, a blinked, reaching up to feel his face. It was wet and, even though Charlotte seemed to be pretty upset, no one else was crying so it must have been him. He realized he was now laying on the floor with his head in her lap, and tried to raise himself up, only to fall back down.

"What...happened...?" He croaked out, coughing into his hand and pulling it away. Blood covered his fingers.

"You...you just blacked out. I called Carla, she's on her way to help me escort you and the prisoners to the infirmary. It's gonna be okay Alex, you'll be fine. Oh my...that's blood, isn't it? Shit, Carla, hurry up!"

"I'm...I'm okay...there was...a bunch of cities are being attacked by loyalists and soldiers. They're trying to take them back, we have to-!"

He saw how Charlotte was looking at him and paused, "Char, don't you hear me? We-!"

"I heard you just fine, sweetie. Just...I think you hit your head too hard."

"No...I saw it!" Alex denied, pushing himself out of her arms and standing up, unsteady and still coughing

"Alex, no! Sit down, you're injured!"

"I'm not!" The blonde man coughed again, "You need to listen!"

"You might have gotten ammonia or something from being out in the cold, or maybe you really did hurt something when we getting them back to camp. Whatever it is Carla will figure it out. Don't worry, okay?" Charlotte held her hands out, like she was calming a wild animal

Just then a figure dressed in white with three guards raced down the hallway. An older woman with her graying hair pulled up into a bun grabbed Alex and guided him away. Alex turned, tried to speak again, but he found the words died in his mouth while his heart sank.

* * *

It would be his luck to be stuck in a infirmary bed right beside the guy who killed him in his dreams. Matthew, the guys said his name was. The Canadian representative. Alex leaned his head back and sighed, he hadn't seen anything since those flashes of insight and he knew he had to get out of this damn infirmary and do something. What could he do though? He knew that if it was happening in the other state section, it would happen in England's as well. He had to get to the capitol or there was no way he could warn whatever rebel they'd put in charge in place of the head governor.

So he waited, waited until it was lights out and Carla was asleep across the hall. Then he slipped out of bed, pulled on his shoes and jackets, and got ready to leave. He still had a light cough, but that wasn't anything he couldn't get by with until he made it the capitol. All of a sudden a soft voice spoke from behind him.

"What are you doing?"

He turned back to see it was Matthew who had spoken, looking at him with wide lavender eyes. Every one of the representatives was looking at him, some with curiosity and some with anger. Alex pursed his lips and glared, trying to come of intimidating, "I don't have to tell you anything."

"You probably should though." The Russian one, Ivan, smirked, "I'm sure you're not supposed to be sneaking out of the infirmary in the dead of night, da? So tell us, or we scream for the head nurse across the hall."

Snarling, Alex grabbed his gun from the counter and shoved it in his holster, "You wouldn't."

As he turned around he heard a deep breath and whirled around, diving for Matthew, who had just started to scream. A small burst of sound escaped the man before Alex's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Shut up!" Alex hissed, "Don't anyone scream."

Releasing the Canadians mouth, Alex quietly scrambled back, glaring at all of them.

"Tell us." The German man, Ludwig, insisted, scowling as always

"I have a gun." Alex whispered brazenly, "I could shoot you."

"That would be even worse." Matthew smirked slightly, "If we screamed the head nurse would come running..."

"You shoot a gun, everyone comes running." The Frenchman, Francis, spoke with a coy smile

"You know what?" Alex snarled, "Fuck you guys!"

"Well shall you tell us or...?" Francis looked at the Canadian, "Matthew, care to finish what you were doing earlier?"

Before Matthew could even open his mouth, Alex was already talking, "Okay. Okay, fine. I'm going to the capitol, to warn them about soldiers that are on their way."

Ivan spoke up with a creepy smile, "How do you know this to be a fact?"

"God..." Alex sighed and rolled his eyes, already tired of played twenty questions, "I-I saw it, okay? When I passed out and started bleeding earlier? I saw soldiers in the Russian states killing everyone and everything. The already have reinforcements and I need to get the word out before this turns into a bigger mess and more people die!"

Matthew raised an eyebrow, "You saw this?"

"Yeah." Alex turned away, face flushing, "It happens a lot, but always in my dreams. I've never...just randomly passed out."

"So..." Ivan began, "You are going to the English capitol, da?"

Alex glared, "That's what I just said!"

"Then take us with you, let us go when you get there." Ivan smiled cheerfully, as though he'd just come up with the best plan

"Yes!" Francis agrees, "Take us with you and we won't alert the nurse and the rest of your camp to your mission."

"They won't listen to you." Alex shook his head, "Besides, even if you did I could convince them to let me go."

"If we're the only ones with information, they'll have to trust us." Matthew snapped, "Besides, I doubt your _mother _will allow you to go."

Jaw clenching, Alex shook his head, "Fine then. I'm not going. I'll send a message-!"

"It might take to long to get there, as I'm sure they put in a new governor? I don't believe you have that phone number and going by regular mail would take much too long." Francis smirked

"Whatever. It was probably my imagination, anyways. It always is." Alex began to climb back into the bed, taking his shoes off

"Can you imagine if it wasn't though?" The Frenchman sighed, "I would hate to have all that blood on my hands. So many lives that could've been spared."

Alex gritted his teeth and continued taking his shoes off.

Then Matthew hit the nail on the head, "It's very unheroic."

The American jumped up and turned to face them, "I can't just take high class prisoners on a journey with me to the capitol and then release them."

"But you will." Francis smirked

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry the update took so long! It's not my best and I had major writers block, but I tried for you guys!**_

_**Question of the Chapter: How does Alex figure out he's America? Do the other nations tell him? Also, will Alex make it to the capitol on time? Will he make friends with the nations before discovering who they are?**_

**_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited! It means the world :)_**


	8. Plans Not Set In Stone

_**Chapter Seven: Plans Not Set In Stone**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and make no money from fanfics!**_

* * *

_Music played and people sang_  
_Just for me the church bells rang_

_Now he's gone, I don't know why_  
_And 'till this day, sometimes I cry_  
_He didn't even say goodbye_  
_He didn't take the time to lie_

_~Bang Bang, Nancy Sinatra_

* * *

Mexico held her head in her hands, staring down at the mountains of paperwork she had yet to do. Sighing, she leant back in her chair, practically sweating in the heat that permeated the air despite the air conditioner being set on high. Using both hands to scrape up her brunette hair, she wrapped it upwards into a messy bun that she stuck in place with a clip. It was a relief to have it off her shoulders, though she still felt the weight. The heaviness on her shoulders was not caused by her hair, though, more like emotional stress because honestly the world was completely fucked at the moment. For her, at least, though the other nations may not agree. No, those who had stolen Alfred's land from under his nose for no apparent reason than that they were power hungry, greedy fools were certainly doing fine. Great trade, more jobs, more _land_. They were in heaven, while she was struggling to stop her economy from collapsing in on itself. None of those _idiotas _across the border would help her out, either, not since they had taken over the United States.

Of course, really, Alfred had done the same thing all those years ago with the Texas Revolution and the Bear Flag Revolt. However, he had never considered taking all of Maria's land in such a brutal manner, she didn't think, and she certainly knew he would never kill her in cold blood as they had done him. Alfred had done nothing to spur this invasion, she knew, and that was one of the main reasons she hated those involved with it. People often said that Alfred and herself hated each other, but that was so far from the truth it was funny. Maria would go so far to say she even loved the _gringo _in her own unique way. Alfred, Canada, and she had often times gotten together and went out to eat, gone hiking, or just sat and talked for hours on end. That was really why it was so hard to swallow that Alfred was dead, she supposed. Because he was sort of one of her best friends, though he used to sometimes get miffed about the illegal immigration, and he was _dead _and it was his own brother and her other best friend that had pulled the trigger.

She didn't think she'd ever really forgive Canada for that. Sure, Alfred had his many problems but he was loyal to a fault. He had been her friend and a pretty damn good brother Canada. Then their northern neighbor had started all this shit and, after all of it, Canada wouldn't even trade with her. Honestly, if America were to come back from the dead and kill all of the bastards she would spit on their faces and dance on their graves. Harsh, maybe. True, certainly.

"_La señorita María! Nunca vas a creer! Los Estados Unidos han aumentado de nuevo, han empezado una revolución_!" She heard the shouting of one of her citizens from all the way down the hall

"Calm down." Maria chided, "Speak calmly. Now, what has happened?"

The attendant took a deep breathe, "The United States of America has started a revolution."

Shocked ran down her back like electricity. Quickly dismissing the attendant from her office, Maria stood and place her hands on her desk, leaning on it.

"So, my _gringo _is back, huh? Just in time. Maybe after he kicks those assholes out we can set up some trade again. Lord knows we'll both need it." She laughed cynically, smiling only a little

This could be beneficial for her, very beneficial. Sure, she missed Alfred very much and was thrilled he was back...but she was even more thrilled with future opportunities that would come from this. Trade, immigration, becoming allies, and all those good things that would help her pull her nation up from the clutches of poverty. First, though, Alfred had another revolution to win and if he didn't, none of those good things that would help her would happen. Maria smirked, she had to make _sure _he won. Besides, the United States would be forever indebted to Mexico for helping them break free of their evil captors, correct?

She could spare a few troops for the future benefits she would gain. After all, she was always a country first and she would do anything to help her people. This was an opportunity to get a close friend back _and _help her citizens. She sure as hell wasn't going to miss it.

Picking up her phone, Maria dialed a number quickly, "Boss. I have a suggestion..."

* * *

Meanwhile, hundred of miles away Alex himself was traipsing through the wilderness with his party of captors still tied up and walking behind him. They thought he would let them go when he got to the capitol to warn the people, they thought they could trick their way to freedom. Well, Alex certainly wasn't born yesterday and knew these pompous assholes were his bartering chips to play this game. While they thought they were walking to freedom, they were simply walking to another cell. After all, you couldn't always be a hero and win.

* * *

_**A/N: Marching Band began early and it's KILLING ME. My feet hurt so much guys you don't understand...**_

_**Anyways Alex has a plan to help his country and so does Maria. Nothing more dangerous than two personifications desperate to help their countries.**_

_**Question of the Chapter: So, what's Mexico going to do? How are the nations going to react when they just get handed over to the capitol officials and get put in another cell?**_

**_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited! It means the world :)_**

**_TRANSLATIONS~_**

**_Spanish:_**

**_"Idiotas" - "Idiots"_**

**_"Gringo" - A non derogatory term for a person from the United States, in this case Maria uses it affectionately._**

**_"La señorita María! Nunca vas a creer! Los Estados Unidos han aumentado de nuevo, han empezado una revolución!" - "Miss Maria! You'll never believe it! The United States has risen again, they have started a revolution!"_**


	9. Past Memories and Mixed Emotions

_**Chapter Eight: Past Memories and Mixed Emotions**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and make no money from fanfics!**_

_**A/N: I HAVE A PREQUEL UP CALLED THINKING OF YOU! IT TELLS A BIT OF BACKSTORY AND HAS A LOT OF ALFRED/MARIA (USA/MEXICO) SO GO CHECK IT OUT NOW I'LL BE REFRENCING THINGS FROM IT.**_

* * *

_Oh, all of these minutes passing, sick of feeling used_  
_ If you wanna break these walls down, you're gonna get bruised_  
_ Now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it_  
_ Already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it_

_~Castle, Halsey_

* * *

Alex huffed, chucking another log onto the crackling fire. It was nightfall now, the trees acting as a canopy and partially protecting them from the elements as the stars twinkled above them all. He stared at the political figures around him sat of the forest floor, whispering and trading glances in a way that Alex knew was not at all innocent. Rolling his eyes, he turned on his heel and walked towards the outskirts of their so called camp to where he'd laid his bag. It had the little he managed to grab from the camp before fleeing with his prisoners which wasn't a lot if he was honest. A little bit of food, some spare ammo for his gun which was still strapped to his side, and a small first aid kit. Plopping down beside it, he used it as a backrest as he leaned his head back, listening closely. The prisoners were still tied up but he needed to hear if they tried to make a run for it. They'd never het away, he had a gun and he was pretty damn fast.

He'd get them to the capitol, preferably alive as they _were _bargaining chips. However it wouldn't cause him too much heartache to shoot one of them.

As he laid there, he heard rustling from the fire. The sound of footsteps crunching against the leaves, coming closer to him. Alex tensed, subtly sliding his hand down to where he kept his gun. What were they gonna do, head butt him? He'd made sure their hands were tied well enough but you never know how sneaky they could be. Alex didn't have the luxury of taking things for granted or relaxing, after all. He never had.

* * *

Matthew sat between Francis and Arthur, all of them whispering as the replica of his brother tended to the fire. The Canadians eyes trailed after him as he walked away to the edge of the light that their small fire made, as far away from the countries as possible while still being able to hear if need be. Whoever this man was, reincarnation of Alfred or not, he surely wasn't stupid or naïve. Had Matthew caused that? If this was America's reincarnation did those untrusting feelings of having someone he loved and trusted kill him carry over? It was obvious his strength had but you could never tell. These things didn't exactly happen that often.

Standing, Canada nodded to England and France before walking towards their captor. He could feel the other countries gaze at his back wearily and to be honest he didn't blame them. After all, Matthew hadn't been exactly _stable _after he'd killed his brother. Sure, he acted normal enough but...there was always that regret that nagged at him. That horrible image of his breather dead, knelt backwards, on that damned field all because of him. He was the one that pulled the trigger that made that bullet go through Alfred's head. He supposed this was his karma come back in the form of America's reincarnation.

To be honest, Matthew wasn't bitter about his brothers revenge. He knew he deserved it. In fact...he _wanted _it.

As he grew closer he saw the seemingly relaxed figure tense, his hand inching towards his hip to where he kept his firearm. Matthew couldn't hide the smile that curved his lips. So this guy was trigger happy just like Alfred.

"What to you want?" The lookalike grunted as he sat up, blonde hair flopping into blue eyes as he glared.

Alfred didn't do that. Alfred never glared.

Canada opened his mouth, words not coming out now that he was face to face with the man. He watched as the rebel rolled his eyes, standing up so he was face to face with the Canadian. Well, actually, he was a bit taller than Matthew.

"Um..." Matthew was grasping at straws as he struggled for words, "I don't happen to recall your name?"

Giving him an annoyed look, the man spoke sharply, "I recall introducing myself and hearing my friends address me by name several times."

He was short with his words. Alfred wasn't short with his words. Alfred always rambled about something or another with a goofy smile on his face, not glare and speak in short and snappy sentences.

"I must've missed it."

The man huffed, "Alexander. Friends call me Alex so...call me Alexander."

That stung a bit. It was understandable as this man, Alexander, didn't know him but the words came out of what looked like Alfred's mouth and...it hurt but it was well deserved.

"So..." Canada swallowed, "Alex. We're going to the capitol?"

The man spared him an annoyed look but nodded, "Yes. As of now it's being decided what we're going to call the nation's capitol, but we're headed to the English States capitol."

"You're planning to rebuild D.C.?" Violet eyes widened, remembering the war torn and burned to the ground city.

It was really nothing but a ghost of its former self. Monuments wrecked and buildings hollowed by fire. Skeletons surrounded the place, families that had been shot in their homes and never had the chance for a proper burial. The nations always said they were going to clear the place out and _at least _bury the children but no one ever got around to it. Matthew supposed he should have, it was the least he could do after he shot his own brother in cold blood. At least care for the dead of the conquered country, they all owed Alfred that much. However the issue was never taken care of and the city stunk of death and decay and blood. It would take a lot of work for the rebuilding country, not to mention a lot of money.

"Well..." Alex faltered, "We _will_. After all you assholes are gone and we're left alone. I'd say we'll go into isolation or something like that. Rebuild internally. You don't need to know nothing about that, though."

Isolation? Of course, of course as soon as he gets his brother back he'll disappear again. Canada _knew _if the man remembered what had happened during the third World War he wouldn't even be talking to him but Matthew had to have hope. Hope of forgiveness, hope of redemption. If he didn't have that he'd go crazy.

"Ah." Matthew fumbled with his words, the ghost of familiarity shadowing him as he spoke to his brother's face once more. He wanted to hug the man and cry about how sorry he was but he had to be conscious of what he said. This may be Alfred in looks but he had a different name and a varying personality. He was sharper, colder, more like a military professional than the fun loving, scared of ghosts, heroic brother Matthew remembered.

Then again, what was to be expected of a child that was born in a time of war and raised at a rebel camp?

"Does it happen often?" The question fell unbidden from the Canadian's lips, "Your episodes I mean. Like the one where you collapsed in the hallway?"

Alex's eyes widened and blue snapped to meet violet, the American's gaze carefully guarded, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. I was _there_, remember?"

* * *

Heart pounding, Alex tried to calm himself but it was nearly impossible. Every time he saw this mans face, Matthew if he could recall the name correctly, he was reminded of that dream. That dream that felt real, the emotions that felt real. Betrayal and hurt, among many, came flushing back when he saw the violet eyes of the Canadian representative. But so did emotions, less prominent but still there, of happiness and familiarity and brotherhood. Like a long lost friend, almost. Then he'd remember the blood covered face looming over him with angry eyes as he felt a bullet shoot through his brain. It tripped him up sometimes, in a way that the 'episodes', as the Canadian put the term so nicely, never had before. Maybe it was because of the resemblance?

What other explanation was there, after all?

"It had never happened to me before." Alex fought to keep his voice steady and his face emotionless

Matthew simply nodded at his words but Alex could see the disbelief in his violet eyes.

* * *

**_A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus! So basically what's going on is Alfred and Alex are slowly merging (even though they're technically the same person, Alex just doesn't have Alfred's memories) and Alex is getting some of Alfred's emotion regarding Matthew. Obviously there's hatred and distrust but there's also love and that bond they shared before the war._**

**_Also, as we've seen, Matthew isn't exactly 100% stable._**

_**Question of the Chapter: So, Mexico, huh? If you read Thinking of You like I asked you to before the chapter started you'd know what I'm talking about. **_

**_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited! It means the world :)_**


	10. Coming For You

_**Chapter Ten: Coming For You**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and make no money from fanfics!**_

_**A/N:THE PREQUEL IS UP IT'S CALLED 'THINKING OF YOU' PLEASE GO READ IT AND REVIEW AFTERWARDS!**_

* * *

_1, 2, melatonin is coming for you_  
_3, 4, baby, won't you lock the door?_  
_5, 6, I'm done with this_  
_7, 8, it's getting late, so close your eyes, sleep for days_

_..._

_Ashes, ashes, time to go down_  
_Ooh, honey do you want me now?_  
_Can't take it anymore, need to put you to bed_  
_Sing you a lullaby where you die at the end_

_9, 10, never want to see you again_  
_11, 12, I pull off black so well_  
_Shit behind the curtain that I'm sick of sugarcoatin'_  
_Next time you're alone, think twice when you grab the phone_

_~Milk and Cookies, Melanie Martinez_

* * *

Mexico analyzed the man sitting in front of her, sitting in her office chair as her chocolate brown eyes read him for any dishonesty. The nation's dark brown, wavy hair fell in an effortless messy style as those threatening green eyes surveyed everything in the room. The wide smile that stretched pink lips contradicted the man's sharp gaze, Maria noticed, and the joy didn't reach his eyes. He wore his military uniform, which was a simple tan jacket with quarter length sleeves, along with a pair of tan trousers. A pair of short brown boots adorned his feet, and he had strips of white cloth wrapped around the area between the knee and ankle. A loosely tied neck bow hung from the country's neck and a shoulder strap of the same color crossed over his right shoulder.

"_España_." Maria nodded toward him in respect, "I believe you know why I've called you here."

"Ah, _sí_, _mi hijo_." Antonio nodded, finally looking the Mexican woman in the eyes, "The United States has rebelled and I can only assume you want me to take part in this madness."

Pursing her lips, she nodded, "You know I hate to ask you for things but if you were to be on our side of the war...things would be much easier."

Antonio raised one slim, dark eyebrow, "How so?"

Sneering, Mexico rolled her eyes, "You're going to make me beg, aren't you? I'll have to get down on my knees and beg for your assistance in a fucking war that is only to rectify the shit storm that happened nearly twenty years ago?"

The Spaniard actually laughed aloud, shaking his head, "No, _amado_, I know you are too proud for such things. I'm just curious as to why you would ask me before your other allies? South Korea, Netherlands, Morocco by extension as he still considers himself an ally of The United States? Why do you come to me?"

"Because," The woman began in a biting manner, "Despite how much I hate you for what you've done in the past...you're a strong military power. Germany wanted to attack you for not siding with them, but you were too strong. After defeating Alfred, they had no resources and you've continued to hold them at bay for nearly twenty years, which says a lot about your strength."

"Ah, but so have you?" His green eyes shined in amusement, "You are not a conquered nation, Maria."

"I may as well be!" She snapped, standing up and glaring harshly, "My country in in fucking ruins and if those damned conquerors decide they want more land I'm right here for the taking! They just don't bother because they don't think I'm a threat, they just don't bother because they think I'm fucking _weak_. You, on the other hand, are on damn cloud nine and not even caring about the struggles of your former so called _child _on another fucking continent!"

Closing his mouth, Spain frowned and furrowed his brows, "_Mi hija_, I did not know you felt that way."

Pursing her lips, Maria sighed sharply and looked at the Spanish nation as though he were dense, "You were neutral in the Third World War. I wouldn't be upset, a lot of countries decided to remain neutral, but you just did it because you didn't want to fight goddamned Southern Italy! Your precious _Romano_!"

Face darkening, Antonio shook his head at the way she mockingly spat out the Italians name, "No. Do not bring him into this, Maria, you don't know anything-!"

Spain was stopped cold at her look. Chilling blue eyes stared at him dumbly, as though remembering something horrible, before she snapped out of it. She shook her head sadly, giving him a pitying but bitter glance as she spoke quietly, "I know a lot more than you'd like to think."

The Spaniard swallowed, eyeing the young woman in front of him as she looked at like the weight of the world was collapsing on her, only her, and not a single person could help her bear the weight. He had overstepped a line, he knew, but he couldn't take the words back.

"Were you there when they shot up and burned D.C. to the ground?" Her voice was careful, concealing any emotion and replacing it with almost scary casualty, as if the two were talking about the weather.

"No, of course not. I was in Europe, in my country. I saw it on the television, but..." He trailed off as he watched a tiny, insane smile grow on her face.

"You didn't see them. They killed innocents, burned children alive, shot up entire families. All of them, not just Canada, though you all seem so eager to pin the blame on him. You precious '_Lovi_' killed thousands of women and children and men who didn't ask to be caught in the crossfire. You know that, right? He's a murderer, a cold blooded killer. He didn't just kill humans, though, no. He helped kill a _whole damned nation_! Alfred is _dead _because he was greedy and wanted a little more _power_. I was there, I saw it, and I know more than you ever will about what happened those last few weeks."

Spain pursed his lips, eyes gone from angry to sad as he watched to woman he'd raised speak of the dead American brokenly, "We do not know the full story. Lov-Southern Italy might not have known-."

"106 _m__illion _people, Antonio! That is one third of the United States population!" She barked, her voice cold as she glared at the man, "106 billion people is the total number of civilian and military casualties faced by the United States _alone_. The kicker is, that's only _during _the war! So many more died due to famine, drops in the economy, living in _fucking radiation zones_! The remaining citizens were beaten and jailed and striped of all freedoms. If you do, however, want to talk about the losses other countries faced, I will kindly call up South Korea, Netherlands, Morocco, and the others so they can tell you what they lost alongside myself trying to help Alfred. This was a useless war, driven by power hungry _lunatics _who are this close to stealing my country and...and you want to stay neutral over a fucking crush."

Looking at his hands, Antonio sighed. He had personally tried to reconnect with Romano after the war, hoping by chance his brother was the one that had sided with the others due to his bond with Germany. All attempts had failed, the grouchy Italian refusing all contact with Antonio due to him not joining the war. It had stung, sure, but Spain was persistent. He kept trying, because he had honestly believed the Southern Italian had nothing to do with the atrocities committed on the citizens of the United States. However, when Maria served the facts up on a silver platter with all of her anguish and bitterness on the side...it was a slap in the face to Spain.

He knew what was right, but he also knew what his heart wanted. In the end, deep down, he knew what his choice was before he even walked into Maria's office.

* * *

**_A/N: So Maria is plotting. Next chapter we see a bit more of Alfred and their trek to the capitol, also they run into a lovely Moroccan on the way ;)_**

_**Question of the Chapter: So...who does Spain choose? Who else will Maria contact?**_

**_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited! It means the world :)_**


	11. Stories From WWIII: America and Mexico

**_Chapter 11: Stories From WWIII: America and Mexico_**

**_A/N: So this is a prequel to my story Reborn. It has a bit of background of WWIII and Mexico and America's (very complicated) relationship. _**

* * *

_You said I was the most exotic flower_  
_ Holding me tight in our final hour_

_ I don't know how you convince them and get them, but_  
_ I don't know what you do, it's unbelievable_  
_ And I don't know how you get over, get over_  
_ Someone as dangerous, tainted and flawed as you_

_ One for the money, and two for the show_  
_ I love you honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go_  
_ How did you get that way? I don't know_  
_ You're screwed up and brilliant,_  
_ Look like a million dollar man,_  
_ So why is my heart broke?_

_~Million Dollar Man, Lana Del Rey_

* * *

They stood in the wrecked remains of the city, amongst the rubble and the bodies and the fires. Two living, breathing figures whose veins were filled with fire and hate. Her holding him in her arms as he cried, both of them looking at what used to be a hub of activity and life. Adults used to walk those wrecked, mangled streets on their way to work. Kids would skip to school of those sidewalks that had been blown out of the ground. Houses that had once held happy, lively families had been hollowed by the fires. There was once a time when those skyscrapers that now stood hollow and black had reached up to God. A city of former glory now nothing but rubble and ruin, monuments destroyed and government buildings crushed. The citizens had either been killed by the fires that had been set, the gunshot that had rained down upon the town, or they'd died alone and tortured as enemy captives.

Honestly neither of the two remaining knew which was worse.

"They killed them all." He spoke brokenly into her tear stained shirt, "Every last one of them."

Stroking that dulled blonde hair that had once shined so brightly, the woman tried her best to comfort them. It was daytime and, even as the morning sun shone down on them, everything seemed dark. They were both covered from head to toe in soot, dust, and blood. He had a large gaping would in his chest, open and leaking behind his army shirt, and she knew she'd have to bandage it up soon lest it get infected. She had a large tear above her eye, clumsily patched over with medical tape and gauze though the blood still managed to seep through. Other various wounds littered their bodies, both seemingly torn down a ragged from the pain and hopelessness of it all.

She couldn't breathe in the putrid scent of the smoke without coughing, "Don't worry, Al. We'll get the best of them yet, yeah?"

When Alfred didn't respond Maria looked down at him worriedly before pushing him off of her shoulder. Steadying him with her hand, she saw the blank, far away look in his cloudy blue eyes. She knew what was happening, he was being attacked again. It wouldn't be long until the tremors and cries came and she needed to find a place to lay him where he couldn't injure himself further. Their goal was to retreat back to Mexico City, Maria's 'heart', so they could lick their wounds and try to contact their allies. Communication had been all but annihilated after they'd basically blown up the city and shot or burned or captured all of the citizens. Telephone wires and internet connection had been dead for awhile since then, and no place in America was truly safe. They'd have to get to Mexico if they had any hope of somehow pulling their shit together.

For now, though, Maria had to focus on Alfred. After all, he'd already been through enough trauma what with DC being in this bad of shape.

* * *

Later that night, as they sat around the fire in silence, Alfred spoke for the first time in hours.

"They burned New York."

The words were hollow, lifeless, as if he had no fighting spirit left. It crushed Maria to see her favorite _gringo _reduced to this, and it hurt her even more to think that she could easily be in his position as well.

"The citizens?" She questioned, even though she already knew the morbid truth

"Killed or taken captive. Mostly killed." He choked up on the last two words, tears filling his eyes, "There were kids, Maria. Kids and women and elders and they just shot them or set the buildings the were in on fire. I-I could hear the screams, them crying for help and I-I just-"

As the tears spilled onto his cheeks, Maria stood and grabbed one of the folded up blankets they had and wrapped it around his shoulders. Despite the fire, the ground was still frigid cold and they were both shaking. He leaned into her shoulder in an attempt to hide his face and they fell back into the same routine. Him silently weeping, her trying to be strong and not cry with him. In the end she couldn't help but let a few sobs as she imagined the pain he and his people were going through. This had happened to so many cities and the brutal murders just kept happening.

"I couldn't stop them." He whispered, "I couldn't help those little kids crying for me...I couldn't..."

"Shh, _niño_. All we can do now in help avenge them. To do that you have to be strong. Can you be strong for them? For me?"

As he closed his eyes, she heard a feint whisper.

"No."

* * *

By the time the two reached Mexico City, the United States was in ruins. South Korea, Israel, Morocco, and Netherlands were all sending troops into the country to try and help stabilize it, but the attacks just kept happening. Canada was the main offender, as they were the ones who had led the attack of Alfred's capitol along with Russia. China, Japan, Britain, France, Germany, and Italy were major supporters of the attacks as well. Sending troops in to shoot up a town or kill a government official. Other countries sat in front of their televisions and either pitied America or were happy for its destruction. Horror stories of what happened to some of the citizens circulated and America's allies and some other neutral countries were appalled at the stories that covered the screens and were printed all over the papers and magazines. However, it seemed that, despite what Alfred had told Maria, America hadn't given up all hope. The President, the Commander in Chief, was still alive and was ordering the troops around behind the scenes so he wasn't assassinated like so many others.

However good things can only last for so long.

They day the reached Mexico City they received the news. Alfred may as well have been shot in the heart and, as he kneeled on the ground in Maria's personal quarters and cried, she could do nothing to comfort him. The president had been killed in his sleep earlier that week along with his wife, their throats slit without the knowledge of the agents posted outside the door to their bedrooms. The first couples children were no where to be found. Their fifteen year old son, twelve year old daughter, five year old daughter, and two year old son were all missing from their beds. Signs of a struggle were shown in the older kids rooms, but after that the trail went cold. People estimate the kids were captured as prisoners of war and were to be tortured for information they didn't have.

Maria could only stand back and watch the words around her crumble away from insanity. Had they really strayed so far from their morality to where kidnapping children from their beds and killing their parents in their sleep was okay? Then again, she supposed she couldn't point a finger without pointing five at herself. They had all committed horrible acts that should be condemned, but when it happened to you it was so much different. She knew this especially counted for Alfred. He had done some pretty shitty things in his relatively short life, but he tried so hard to be good. To be a hero. He always smiled and even though he had done some terrible things, including stealing some of her own land and wars such as the Vietnam War, she didn't think he could ever do something like this and be a hundred percent okay with it. He could never harm any child, or brutally mutilate his own brother as Canada did to Alfred. The War of 1812 had gotten pretty messy, but other than burning down York Alfred had never intended to harm his brother. He had wanted them to be free of Britain so they could be together again.

Alfred could never burn another's citizens alive in good conscious or whatever other twisted shit these nations were doing the him.

He was used to being on top, and the bigger they are the harder they fall. So, seeing as America was a pretty big nation, it was up to Maria to catch him and pick up all the shattered pieces. She offered what comforts she could, and prayed that this fate would never befall her or her people.

* * *

They last day she saw him breathing was the day he went into battle with his men. They were going to be slaughtered, they knew this very well, bit it was a last stand. A fighting chance. That damnable American spirit that couldn't be stomped out no matter what ringer they were put through. So she hugged him one last time, both of them dressed in the military uniform of a commander as they said their goodbyes. However, she was staying to help plan Mexico's next attack. Both Maria and Alfred knew it was the end for him, so as she watched him walk away with what little troops that had managed to stay alive through all of this shit, she allowed a few tears to fall before retreating behind her steel exterior that she wouldn't allow the sharpest blade to cut through.

* * *

It was a week later when she finally felt that piercing pain in her chest, that gut wrenching feeling that told her the United States of America lived with the ancient nations now. She couldn't help but yearn for a time long past. Yes, the two might have been at odds but...at least Alfred wouldn't be lying dead in a ditch somewhere on that bloody battlefield. Despite having told herself that she wouldn't fuss, she knew she at least had to retrieve his body from the fighting grounds. He didn't deserve a shovel full of dirt over his face and a hastily muttered prayer before the pastor moved on to the next victim of this horrible war. No, he should get a proper burial. So as she set of for the border of Canada and the United States, she prepared herself for the worse. However, it was so much more terrible than she could have ever imagined.

* * *

She found him in a mud puddle, bent backwards as though he had been on his knees pleading when he'd been shot and then fell back after it was all said and done. She had been correct and, despite having prepared herself all she could, she still gagged when she saw the bullet would that had gone straight through the middle of his forehead, splattering blood and brains over the ground he laid on. He was so pale, his once bright blonde hair dimmed to a pasty ashen color as even Nantucket drooped in the state of Alfred's death. The thing that hurt her most was his eyes. Once so bright and blue, eventually turned cloudy but still so full of emotion, had turned blank and lifeless. Alfred had always been so energetic, so happy, that it hurt her to see so she reached down and placed her hand over his blood covered face and closed them.

Finally, she broke down crying as she held him in her arms, damning every nation who started this out of greed and paranoia. Damning Alfred for following his men into their final battle even though she knew she would've done the same. Then she wiped her tears, smearing his blood on her face in a way that resembled war paint, and began to lug his soulless body back to where her helicopter waited for her.


End file.
